Until Thy Wrath Be Past

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I remember how we died. I remember, and I know. That’s the way it is now. I know about certain things even though I wasn’t actually present when they happened. But I don’t know everything. Far from it. There are no rules. Take people, for instance. Sometimes they are open rooms that I can walk into. Sometimes they are closed. Time doesn’t exist. It’s as if it’s been whisked into nothingness.

Winter came without snow. The rivers and lakes were frozen as early as September, but still the snow didn’t come.

It was October 9. The air was cold. The sky very blue. One of those days you’d like to pour into a glass and drink.

I was seventeen. If I were still alive, I’d be eighteen now. Simon was nearly nineteen. He let me drive even though I didn’t have a licence. The forest track was full of potholes. I liked driving. Laughed at every bump. Sand and gravel clattered against the chassis.

“Sorry, Bettan,” Simon said to the car, stroking the cover of the glovebox.

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